


Melody

by Mike_H



Series: Tumblr Prompts [9]
Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series, Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:20:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23041624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mike_H/pseuds/Mike_H
Summary: Promptselected byTuli-chan.
Relationships: Takaba Akihito/Uchiha Izuna
Series: Tumblr Prompts [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/938211
Comments: 3
Kudos: 2





	Melody

**Author's Note:**

> **[Prompt](https://otpprompts.tumblr.com/post/131386853902/person-a-is-an-enthusiastic-dog-lover-theyre-out)** selected by **[Tuli-chan.](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tuliharja/pseuds/Tuliharja)**

If anyone could see us now, they'd probably describe us as _content._ Lazy. Happy. At peace.

_Normal._

They would think we're exactly as we look. Two dudes vegging out in front of the TV on a Sunday afternoon.

There's me, half-sitting, half-sinking into the couch cushions.

There's you, with your head pillowed on the armrest and your feet in my lap.

There's Travis Barker, stretched as long as he is on your torso, his front paws braced upon your chest. The little guy likes you better than me, and I know I could say I'm jealous, but that wouldn't be true, would it? I like you a whole lot better than me too.

Anyone would look at us and think we're this cute picture-perfect family. Anyone would think that this is how we've always been.

No one would think that six months ago, I woke up every day hating the world. I woke up every day wanting to die.

I thought a lot about suicide back then. Maybe I was a coward, but that's just the way it was. That's how it went when life chose to beat the everloving fuck out of me with its gargantuan shit stick.

One day, I was this kid who almost had his shot at getting recruited by the Seahawks, and next thing I knew I was the kid with the busted leg, shooting morphine between my toes like I was Nicky fucking Shades.

And one day, I was the kid who couldn't fucking hear.

See, I wasn't _born_ deaf, but you already knew that. The hardest thing wasn't even losing my shot at going pro, or my parents' divorce, or living my life in silence when I've always been so at home with _loud._

The hardest part was not knowing what to do with myself. Lost. Floundering. I hated everything that I was forced to become.

I always had plans, like getting into WSU, becoming the best damn wide receiver in NFL history, marrying Tarja Turunen, that kinda thing.

I've always been the guy with grand dreams, and it's pretty fucking hard not being that guy anymore.

And then I met _you._

You with your blond hair and megawatt smile. Your impudence and your spirit and your _life_ that makes me think that living wouldn't be so bad if I could just live these days with you.

I know I should be paying attention to the movie we're watching right now, the one we're watching without closed captions just so I can practice my lip-reading, but there's this scene in Central Park, and it just takes me back, y'know?

Back to when I was out walking Travis Barker and hating the world when you ran up to me — bright and effervescent and saying something I could not decipher, but so badly wanted to.

I took one look at the camera 'round your neck and — unexplainably stupid and bizarrely arrogant and achingly desperate — assumed you wanted a picture. Maybe you recognized me from one of my high school games, maybe you knew me from one of my YouTube videos. When really, you were just asking if you could pet my dog.

But you took a picture of me anyway, and many more after that, and I think that that was how I fell for you, watching you watch me through your viewfinder and knowing you didn't see a football star or a rock star or a deaf guy. All you saw was _me._

There's this guy on the TV screen jogging with his earphones in, and it makes me think of all the times I'd watch you sing, placing my fingers against your throat so I could "hear" you.

I think about the times we rock out in my basement. The car rides where we scream all the songs we love at the top of our lungs. The days we'd spend just about anywhere, talking _music_ for hours.

Days that keep me sane. You gave me courage to sing again. You always tell me I sound just as good as I used to and it'd sound patronizing if it were coming from anyone else but you.

You are the steady, reliable backbeat to my screaming, discordant mess of chords. You make me want to keep breathing. You make me like who I am.

Your eyes that never lie. Your hands that know the rhythm of my body. Your lips that never tire of saying my name. _"Izuna. Izuna. Izuna."_ I don't have to hear your voice to know how good it sounds upon your tongue.

The guy in the movie, he's finally caught on to the shadowed figures tailing him and he's breaking into a panicked run. You dig your heel into my thigh and say, with your excited lips and fumbling hands, "This is my favorite part!"

You wanna know what my favorite part is, Akihito? It's _this_ right here — you, me, Travis Barker in this little part of our world that's all kinds of fucked up and all kinds of _right._


End file.
